I’ve been on a decluttering binge lately.
The new year, it always gives me the organization bug. I find myself buying baskets and bins, a bookshelf, cubbies–all in the hopes that this time I will finally “get organized.” And maybe I do get organized, very briefly. I put all the stuff away, where I want it to go, and it’s great. But then, something crazy happens. Like, the kids wake up. Right, I have four kids, ages 8 and under, and they don’t exactly contribute in a positive way to my dreams of an organized life. Mostly, I blame them for my disorganization.
Truth is, though, it’s not the kids. The kids certainly don’t help, but I’ve been this way since forever. Growing up, my bedroom was a horror. I always had things strewn all over the bathroom. It drove my parents nuts. I recall my dad telling me he looked forward to the day I became an adult with my own place so he could come over with his laundry and throw it all over my floors. (He has yet to make good on this threat.) When I got to college, it didn’t improve. I told myself I’d get organized after graduation, when I was a “real” adult with a job and grown-up responsibilities like insurance and a car payment.
Didn’t happen.
I was working at the old Slidell Sentry-News, first as a reporter and then as the lifestyle editor, and my desk was almost always suffocating under stacks of paper. I was forever rummaging through piles to find what I needed and scrambling to make my deadlines. One time, I misplaced a wedding announcement. The bride’s mother called me several times to check on when the paper would run it, and I always assured her–yes, yes, it would run soon–only to finally realize I couldn’t find it. I still feel terrible whenever I think about that.
Neither marriage nor children changed my habits. Which genuinely surprised me, as I felt sure I would get it together when I became a stay-at-home mom. After all, I would have a ton of free time (what???), so of course I would be a meticulous housekeeper, right?
Hahahaha.
Fool woman, I was. My housekeeping habits have improved a bit with the addition of the kids, but that’s only because the alternative would leave us smothered under a 2-ton pile of laundry. I spend more time cleaning than I ever have, and yet I can barely keep my head above water. It’s all I can do to get the dishes put away and the laundry washed (rarely folded).
A few weeks ago, I stood in my master bedroom closet, feeling completely overwhelmed by the boxes and stacks of clothing–both my own and the kids’–and decided I couldn’t stand it another second. I wanted it gone. I didn’t know whose clothing was where, or what sizes I had stored in which container (with three boys, I have a ton of hand-me-downs boxed up for future use), so I decided to just scrap it all.
Multiple garbage bags of clothing came out of that closet and went to Goodwill. Sweaters I never wear, pants that don’t fit, the dress I wore to my rehearsal dinner (11 years ago!), a sequin dress I wore to Northshore High School’s Homecoming in 1994–why in the world did I have all that stuff?
My mission spread throughout my home, resulting in the removal of multiple car loads of toys, kitchen gadgets, linens, knick-knacks, electronics, and other random items. (Why did I have three mops?) I had no idea I had so much unnecessary STUFF until I started examining my belongings and getting rid of them. Our house was far from an episode of “Hoarders,” but it felt overwhelming to see it, load after load, all boxed up in the back of my van.
As the stuff started clearing out, space in my home began opening up. An almost-empty shelf in the linen closet. An extra drawer in my dresser. Kitchen cabinets with room to breathe. Our playroom is looking sparse by some standards, but with fewer things at their fingertips, my kids are actually playing more with their toys. They’ve been whining less for TV. No longer are a million playthings competing for their limited attention spans–they have fewer choices and fewer distractions.
I’m finding it’s easier to locate things now. Less rummaging through drawers and digging through closets to find a shoe. I’m amazed to find I have more time. My home still requires daily, all-day maintenance–such is the nature of four children in one house–but I’m starting to feel less overwhelmed by it.
For some people–many people–a massive declutter yielding a more manageable home sounds like a no-brainer. But for me, it’s an epiphany.
For so long, I’ve been thinking, “If only I could get my stuff organized.” But what I’m starting to see is the solution to my disorganization is not better organization, it’s fewer belongings. I very simply cannot handle having a lot of stuff in my house–I can’t manage it. Some people could have lived in my house with all my things and managed well, I don’t doubt that.
Like my college roommate, who shockingly remains one of my dearest friends despite being subjected to my sloppy living habits for multiple years. She used to line up her push pins on her bulletin board, grouped together by color. It was baffling to me. I will never group my push pins by color, and I know this, so it’s best if I simply have fewer push pins.
Turns out less really is more. (It had to be said.)
(Betsy Swenson can be reached at sliindelife@gmail.com.)